


Deanifer

by IndieQueen182



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 10, Demon!Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Humour, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndieQueen182/pseuds/IndieQueen182
Summary: After Dean is saved by the Mark of Cain turning him into a demon, he kind of, accidentally, becomes King of Hell. Crowley is less than impressed. Ridiculousness Ensues.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

“Wake up. Now.”

Crowley’s growl tore Dean from the most wonderful dream, he was lying in bed surrounded by beautiful women. Oh wait. Not a dream. There were arms and legs everywhere, he wasn’t quite sure what belonged to who. It had been one hell of a night. He smiled to himself, rolling over to look at his boss.

“Whaddya want Crowley? Can’t you see I’m a little busy here?”

“I said. Wake up. Now.” He repeated. He looked pissed. Majorly pissed.

He wracked his brain, trying to think what could have caused Crowley to get so annoyed. The last couple of weeks since he’d become a demon had been great; a steady stream of girls, drinks, brawls and karaoke. I mean, just last night he and Crowley had sat and played a game of cards whilst knocking back whiskeys. Wait, cards. That was it, he’d beaten Crowley. Oh shit. He’d beaten Crowley.

“Remember now, _your highness?_ _”_ Crowley sneered, rage burning in his eyes.

Dean pulled the pillow from under his head, placed it over his face and groaned.

“It was a game Crowley, you don’t have to go along with it. We were drunk, you didn’t mean to. I don’t even want it.”

“No, Dean. You won fair and square, and I may be a demon but I am a demon of my word. I NEVER go back on a deal Dean. No, I’m sorry Dean. But you are the new King of Hell. Now get your sorry arse out of bed. Your _majesty,_ ”

Shrugging off a still sleeping red head, Dean sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet hitting the plush rug. He stood and turned to face Crowley, not bothering to hide his nakedness.

“Look, dude. This demon thing is hella cool, but no way do I want to be King. That is far too much like hard work. I just want to, you know, party.”

“The time for partying is over now Dean, it is time for you to accompany me to hell. My court have already got wind of this whole transgression and wish to hold a coronation for you. Tonight.”

***

A few hours (and a few beers) later, Dean found himself stood on a platform in front of a room full of demons being introduced by Crowley as their new King. As ridiculous as this whole thing was, Dean couldn't help but smile at how uncomfortably angry Crowley was becoming at having to explain the situation to a baying crowd of demons. His face red, his fists clenched he fielded yet another question.

“Look, I won’t explain it again. I lost a game of poker to young Dean here and now HE is your King. And my King. It doesn’t matter what I would have won in return-”

“It does matter. It really does matter,” Dean had to interrupt. “It was the Impala. Crowley bet Hell for the Impala.”

He couldn’t help it. First his shoulders went, and before long he was wiping a tear from his eye. The whole thing was just ridiculous. He, a Winchester, albeit a demon one, was King of Hell. It was fricking hilarious.

“All right, all right. Shut up everybody.” Silence fell at Deans words, maybe being in charge wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Look, obviously this is a bit of a shock to you all. And to me. So I’m just gonna…”

With that he vanished leaving Crowley alone, on a platform, in front of a baying crowd of demons.

***

Back in the dingy motel room the girls had obviously gone. Which was a shame, he could have done with a bit of stress relief. As funny as this whole thing was, he didn’t really care for the target on his head that came with position. Also, the girls seemed to have been replaced by Castiel and his brother. Which really made it a double bummer.

“Cas! Sam! What a surprise. What in the hell are you guys doing here?” His fake happy voice sounding strangely sincere to his own ears. Well, maybe he had missed them a little bit.

Sam twitched with anger, unable to speak, staring at his brother.

“Look Sammy, I left you a note. I told you not to look for me. I’m a demon Sammy, I’m not your Dean. You gotta let go. Get a dog.”

“We’re here to take you home Dean.” It was Cas who spoke, his voice strangely soft. Dean scoffed.

“How do you two expect to take me down? I’m the god damn Demon King.”

However, in his shock at seeing his former friends Dean had failed to notice the second Angel in the room. The angel who crept up behind him and slipped the demon cuffs around his wrists. The angel who put a finger to his temple and knocked him out.

***

When Dean awoke a few hours later, he knew where he was before he even opened his eyes. The bunker. In the same chair that had once held Crowley. He was going to kill Crowley for getting him into this mess. He looked around the room, bare apart from the chains and various torture instruments he was _almost_ sure his brother wouldn’t use on him. Who knew what Cas would do though. Or that bitch that had knocked him out with her Angel mojo. He knew there was no way he could escape, not with the cuffs on, and there was no way Sam was gonna take those off. He sat in the quiet, waiting for someone to come back and start whatever stupid half-baked scheme Sam had come up with. He was probably going to sacrifice himself for Dean again. Sentimental fool. It wasn’t long before he heard keys jangling in the lock and his little brothers face appeared.

“Sammy! Brother! How are you? Quite the reunion, huh?” It didn’t come out quite as sarcastic as he’d expected, maybe he had missed his old life a little.

“Shut up Dean. I know its not really you, I know it’s just the Mark. Me and Cas looked into it. We can cure you with purified blood. Same as any other demon. Only this time, I don’t have to use my own.”

He walked to towards Dean, placing what Dean knew to be a case full of blood on the table in front of him.

“Right, let's get this party started!”

***

Dean didn’t know how many rounds of injections he’d had now. All he knew was that his blood burnt in his veins. It pulsed hot, making him itch all over. Inside and out. He just wanted it to end, he didn’t care if he was demon or human. This hurt. A lot. At some point, Sam had had to tap out, unable to cope with hurting his brother. Even if it was to save him. Cas, ever the Angel, had no such qualms.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t feel human yet Dean? You’ve had a lot of blood now. You must be feeling something.”

“Nope. Just all kinds of pain. No humanity. Sorry. You’re just going to have to try harder. Obviously the King of Hell needs a lot of blood.”

“King of Hell? You said that before, I thought you were joking.”

“Nope. No joke. I beat Crowley at cards, and now all the little demons bow down to me. Can you believe, it. He bet Hell for the Impala.” If Dean wasn’t in so much pain, this still would have made him laugh. As it was he managed a sort of grimace. “Just call me Deanifer..”

“Deanifer? Is that your demon name? I didn’t realise. I have been addressing you incorrectly. My apologies.”

Dean sighed, “No Cas, I was trying to make a joke. Deanifer, like Lucifer…”

“Oh, well it appears that even as a demon you are not very funny.”

Dean felt another wave of fire enter his body as Castiel once again stabbed him with the needle. And then he passed out. Again.

***

Dean’s eyes were closed, he was aware of a bright light and a fire in his blood but not much else. He struggled to open his eyes, welded shut with sweat and tears and the crust that comes with heavy sleep. His wrists hurt, shackled behind him. Where the hell was he? What the Hell had happened? His surroundings were still blurry but he recognised them. He was in the bunker. In the dungeon. And there were to faces peering at him, eyes full of hope.

“Sam?Cas?” He managed, his voice sounded hoarse, his throat felt cracked and dry. “What…?”

“I take it you’re back with us then?” Sam practically beamed at him, Cas was stood slightly back, ever cautious. “The demon’s definitely gone?”

“Well there’s only one way we can be certain.” Cas said, as he dumped about a litre of holy water over Dean’s head.

“Seriously dude! Was that completely necessary?” Dean spluttered, shaking water out of his ears. “So I was a demon? And now I’m not? I didn’t hurt either of you did I?”

“No, don’t worry. Nothing like that.” Sam assured him as he undid the cuffs around Dean’s wrists and pulled him into a hug.

“There is something else though,” Cas said, still stood slightly back. Which upset Dean, he thought they were all family now. Someone else appeared behind him in the doorway. Crowley! He was about to call out a warning to others but they seemed to be expecting him.

“Good evening, your majesty.” Crowley smirked.

“You’re majesty? What the Hell are you going on about Crowley? You been smoking something funny?”

“No, your highness. You are my King, the King of Hell.”

"He wishes for us to address him as 'Deanifer' I believe" Cas added.

“Oh shit.” Dean passed out. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, this is my first Supernatural fic and actually the first thing I've written at all in while so please feel free to comment any thoughts. Good or bad. I promise Destiel is end game, but it *might* be a bit of a slow burn. I'll update tags as I post. This whole story started from a silly conversation I had with my boyfriend whilst watching Supernatural, so I have to give him some credit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain angel decides Dean has been wallowing in self pity for too long.

The next few days were just plain bizarre. After Dean finally regained awareness, Crowley explained to him about the card game. How he’d lost his title to him over a ridiculous thing about the Impala. No one was quite sure what it meant yet, to have a human King of Hell. Or how they were going to deal with it. Sam was hitting the books, as always, looking for any information. Cas had returned to Heaven with Hannah, he still needed to try to restore his Grace after all. Crowley meanwhile, who had been named temporary regent in Dean’s absence, had to gone to try to smooth things over in Hell. And Dean? Well Dean didn’t know what to do. He was just trying to come to terms with that fact that he had been a demon. And that he was the King of freaking Hell. 

He hid away in his room, his safe space, but slowly, memories of his demon days spent with Crowley started to come back. Some were just flashes of emotion, or a face. A vague feeling he did something not great. Kind of like waking up after getting black out drunk and just knowing you did something bad, but not being quite sure what. Dean hated that feeling. It got worse though, the slow trickle of remembered feelings became a flood of vivid memories. They would hit him from no where, stopping him in his tracks. That’s why he was laying on his bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. He had grown sick of Sammy giving him that look, the ‘don’t worry, it wasn’t you’ look. Because it kind of was him, and he needed some time to come to terms with what he’d done. Without being watched by sympathetic, puppy dog eyes. So he stayed here, alone with his thoughts, feeling more and more sorry for himself. A sudden knock at the door brought him crashing back. 

“Come in.” But it wasn’t the face he was expecting that appeared around the door. “Oh hey, Cas. I thought it would be Sammy again, trying to make me eat something. I swear he always mollycoddles me after I nearly die. No idea why.” 

Cas stepped through the door, closing it softly behind him and stopping by the bed to look down at Dean. 

“No Dean, I told Sam I’d come and talk some sense into you. He’s beginning to tire of you hiding in your room and only coming out to grab food when you think he’s asleep. You need to pull yourself together and be there for him. He thought he lost you Dean, and now you’re pulling away from him again.” 

Dean sat up straight, away from the wall he had been leaning on whilst he lay on his bed. Sulking. He looked up at Castiel, shocked by his friend’s tone; not to mention the thunderous look on his face. “Jesus dude! It’s only been a couple of days, give a guy some time to deal with shit, huh?”

“It’s been a month Dean. Sam says you’ve barely said a word to him whilst I’ve been gone, he’s worried about you.” His face softened ever so slightly, “I’m worried about you.”

Now Dean thought about it, it had been more than a few days. He hadn’t realised he’d been sulking that long. He obviously hadn’t managed to avoid Sam completely in this time, but the only times he had seen his brother had been accidental. On the way to bathroom, in the kitchen. That kind of thing. Sammy had stopped seeking him out quite quickly when the only reply he would get from Dean was a grunt or shake of the head. 

“Look Cas, I needed some time. I’ve started remembering shit. Shit I did as a demon. It wasn’t all cards and karaoke, some of it was pretty nasty.”

“I thought that might be the case. Look Dean, it wasn’t you. And as far as making mistakes goes, I think I’ve still got you beat. Torturing a few people for Crowley is nothing compared to what I’ve done.” 

“But it was me Cas. I might have been a demon, but I was still me.”

“No Dean it wasn’t. The sooner you can realise that, the sooner you start talking to your brother again, the sooner things can go back to normal.”

“Normal Cas? When have things ever been normal for me? For any of us?” 

“Everyone has there own version of normal, this is ours.” Castiel replied. “Now go talk with your brother so we can start cleaning up your other mess. Deanifer.” 

***

Dean found Sam exactly where he expected, in the library, staring at his laptop screen whilst surrounded by piles of dusty, old books. Sam’s idea of heaven, Dean’s idea of... Well not quite hell, but is was incredibly boring. He entered the library alone, Cas having returned to Heaven to give them some ‘alone time’. Dean really hated it when Cas used air quotes wrong. Sam looked up, hearing a floor board creak under Dean’s foot. 

“Beer?” Dean offered him one of the bottles he had grabbed from the kitchen on the way. It was his preferred way of saying ‘let’s talk’. 

“Thanks,” Sam accepted the bottle gratefully. 

“So… watcha working on then?” Dean motioned to the various books and papers scattered haphazardly all over the table, picking up a file at random, “ah, ‘the traditions of Hell’s courts’. So, what, you’re planning on training me up to be King or something?”

“No, Dean. Nothing like that.” Sam took a sip from his bottle, “We’re looking to find some kind of loophole to get you out of this whole thing. But first, how are you man? I’m starting to get worried.”

“I know, I figured that’s why you got Cas to come make me feel bad.” 

“Cas? I haven’t seen Cas since we brought you back. He was here?” Sam looked majorly confused. 

“Huh. Weird. I guess he’s been keeping an eye on us.” He’d think about that some more later. “But yeah, he came and talked some sense into me. Or guilt. I’m not sure.  
But yeah, I’m fine. Or, as fine as I can be. I guess I’ve got some shit to deal with but haven’t we all.”

“Well that’s great. You know if you ever want to talk about anything -” but Dean cut him off.

“You know how I feel about feelings. They’re for girls. But. Thanks. Now, what have you got for me?” 

“You are not getting out of it that easily this time. You have to tell me how you’re feeling, for all I know that Mark on your arm is still affecting you.”

So that’s what all this was about. Sam was worried that Dean was still gonna go all demon on his ass. 

“Look Sammy, I honestly haven’t felt so much as a twinge from this Mark since you cured me, and if I do? You’ll be the first to know. And then Cas. So he can end things. All I want to do is get back to work. Solve a case. And our current case seems to be my, uh, predicament. So, I ask again, what have you got for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading. It went slightly angsty. I didn't mean for it to go angsty. But I started sowing some Destiel seeds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to get away, but it doesn't quite go to plan.

It turned out Sammy didn’t have a whole lot of anything for him. With Crowley unwilling to go back on his word, the only way to transfer the power back would be to kill Dean. Or make another bet. Maybe. He wasn’t quite sure. It had all got too much for him, and the dust in the library was starting to bother him. Or that’s what he told Sam anyway. In reality, it’d just been far too long since him and baby had had any real alone time, demon Dean had definitely not taken proper care of her. He’d nearly lost her to Crowley in a card game for God sake. That was one of things that upset him the most. He’d needed to clear his head too, try to make sense of everything. And that was how he found himself alone at another anonymous road side bar, ignoring glances from some boozed up woman old enough to be his mother. 

“Hello Dean. Or what was it Castiel called you, Deanifer?”

“Hey Crowley. Come to kill me and retake your throne?” Dean asked, not bothering to look up from the beer bottle he was studiously picking the label off of.

“Tsk tsk Squirrel, you’re not getting out of this that easily.” Crowley sat on the battered stool beside him, motioning for the bartender to bring over another beer for Dean. “...and I’ll have one of those fruity things with a cherry on it.” 

“So whaddya want then? Need some help looking after my unruly subjects?” 

“Well. You’re not far off. Turns out, even with me acting as your regent, you still need to turn up to hear the court every once in a while. Once a week should do it. Just for an hour or so.”

Crowley’s behaviour seemed off to Dean, like he was trying to appease him or something. This whole situation was getting weirder by the minute. He didn’t dare think what might happen next. If Crowley bowed he didn’t think he’d be able to keep a straight face. 

“Seriously dude? You want me to sit and listen to demons moaning about other demons? How the in the hell do you expect me not to smoke anyone? Can’t I just say you’re King again? I don’t wanna be King!” 

“I’ll tell you the same I told that giant, buffoon of a brother of yours. The title has to be won fair and square. It can’t simply be gifted, and you can’t lose it on purpose. And until I figure out a way to do that you need to play along. Your highness.”

“Why can’t we just toss a coin?” Dean asked.

“This is for Hell Dean. You can’t just toss a coin for Hell.”

“Well you bet it against the Impala in a game of poker, so I don’t see why not.”

“Because I said so!” Crowley was starting to look annoyed. Good. 

“Did you just ‘because I said so’ the King of Hell?” Dean smirked. He loved winding Crowley up so much, it always made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

After taking a sip from the drink that had appeared before him (little cherry and all), Crowley turned in his stool to face Dean. He was not in the mood for jokes. 

“Ok, ok. Sorry. You have to admit its funny though. I mean, I think its fricking hilarious. But why don’t you just kill me?”

“You’re too important.” He simply replied. 

“Too important? To who?”

“To the balance, Dean. I’m not an idiot, I don’t want world domination like Lucifer. I just want Hell to run smoothly, and for that to happen I need the likes of you and your brother to help keep the balance right. You make it so much easier for me to keep unruly demons in line. Well, I guess that’s actually your job now. Which brings me back to why I’m here.”

Dean scowled at Crowley, I mean I guess it was good to know that he was (kind of) on their side. Or wasn’t actively plotting against them at least. For now. It was getting so hard to keep on top of who was on their side nowadays. Angels were bad, and demons were good. Dean needed another drink. He waved the bartender over to ask for a couple of shots of whiskey, both for him. 

“You may as well leave the bottle.” Crowley handed over a couple of bills, ignoring the sounds of protest. “Right, well, he shouldn’t bother us for a while now.”

“What do you want from me Crowley? I’m tired of this now.” Dean poured himself a third measure. Lifting the glass to his lips he paused, debating taking his time over this drink. He shook his head and knocked it back, his free hand already reaching back to the bottle. 

“Like I said, I just need you to come to the court and act kingly for a bit. Listen to demons whinge, dole out some punishments, bark some orders… You might actually enjoy it!”

“I can’t do it Crowley, I can’t stand in a room full of demons and not try to fight them. We need to figure this out already.”

“Well I don’t see you suggesting anything…” Crowley took the bottle off Dean, who had just finished pouring himself a sixth shot, and poured one for himself. 

“Why don’t we just have another poker game?” 

“Because there’s no way you won’t lose on purpose, and that would just void it. Anyway, we’re late. Don’t worry, you can bring the bottle.” Crowley said as he placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

The dingy bar disappeared, replaced by an even dingier room. The large, bare brick room was lit only by candle light. There was no furniture other than a simple, wooden throne. If a throne could be described as simple. They were stood on a slight platform. Facing a small crowd of demons. Great. Crowley had brought him to court. 

“Seriously, dude. You ought to warn a guy before you teleport him.” Dean’s legs had buckled slightly on landing, he had gone from sitting down to standing up without realising after all. 

“Take a seat, sire.” Crowley motioned to the throne, the only seat in the room. He then turned to address the handful of demons that stood before them. “Aren’t you going to bow before your King?”

The group stumbled awkwardly, bowing to Dean and mumbling apologies to Crowley. 

“Now, you’ve seen your King, go. Away with the lot of you.” Crowley dismissed them with a flick of his hand and turned back to Dean, waiting for the room to empty before he spoke again. “Right. Now that’s done, I’ll take you home.” `  
The ground fell from beneath Dean’s feet once again, almost instantly replaced but still causing him to stumble. Crowley really could be annoying sometimes. Well most of the time to be honest. At least he was back in the bunker though; his abrupt entrance only slightly startling Sam. 

“What the hell was that about?! And I thought I asked you to warn me about the teleporting thing.” Dean asked, anger starting to show in his voice. He crossed the library to pour himself a stiff drink, he deserved it.

“Can I just ask what’s going on? Where did you to just appear from?” An incredibly confused Sam asked, looking from Crowley’s smug face, to Dean’s angry pout. 

Dean opened the bottle of whiskey that he still held, pouring three generous glasses. He put one in front of Sam, shoved one roughly into Crowley’s hand and stood with the third in his hand. Leaning on the back of his brothers chair.

“Yeah Crowley, what the hell is going on? What happened to all that attending court bullshit?”

“I may have slightly exaggerated exactly what that entailed.” Crowley replied, openly smiling now.

“Oh yeah? You think it’s funny to make me think I have to go and sit and talk to demons? And not be allowed to kill them!” The anger wasn’t just starting to show now, Crowley was one wrong word away from being pinned against a bookcase. Sam on the other hand was starting to properly gauge the situation and was struggling to hide a smirk. 

“Incredibly. Look, I’m Sorry. Well, I’m not. I just needed you to show your face so that everyone could see that I wasn’t just pretending to be your regent. Now you can happily go about your business whilst I try to find away to transfer the title back that doesn’t kill you.” With that, Crowley lifted his glass to Dean and downed his drink. He carefully placed his empty glass on the table, turned towards the door, and disappeared. He loved to disappear. Much to Dean’s annoyance. 

“So, where have you been? Where’s the car?” Sam asked.

Dean put his head in his hands. “I’m gonna need a lift.”


End file.
